


166. gasoline

by piggy09



Series: The Sestre Daily Drabble Project [140]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 12:32:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8578666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/pseuds/piggy09
Summary: Helena takes her hands off the steering wheel and she fumbles for the volume dial, cranks up the radio to truly horrifying levels. IT’S A PARTY IN THE USA, Miley Cyrus urgently informs them. The car is shaking with bass; Helena has an expression of mild delight, like she’s at a garden party. They go screaming through another red-light intersection.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to preface this drabble by saying that I think Helena is probably a good driver. She can drive a motorcycle, and I believe in her. Thus: everything in this drabble is purely for comedic effect.

“Keep driving!” Sarah yells as something behind them goes _crunch_. Helena, not listening, takes her hands off the wheel and turns all the way around to see what the noise was; Sarah has to dive over and yank the steering wheel so that they don’t hit a building.

“Helena,” she says, “I swear to god, watch the bloody _road_.”

“What did we hit?” Helena asks, putting her hands back at eleven and three or whatever system she’s using. Sarah turns around to look behind them. Oh, god. She turns back around.

“Nothing!” she says, voice high and strained. “Just – keep bloody driving.”

“Okay,” Helena says cheerily. She honks the horn a few times.

“Don’t.”

“Why not?”

_Because the last thing we need is to draw attention to the terrorcar_ , Sarah thinks.

“Gives me a headache,” she says. “Last thing I need right now.”

“I am on the road,” Helena says sulkily. She shoots a glance at Sarah and then gives one more furtive honk of the horn. The car beeps cheerily. At least someone is having a good time.

“Barely,” Sarah says, and – “Meathead, that was a stoplight.”

“There was no one _there_.”

“Helena—” Sarah stops. She pinches the bridge of her nose. They’re definitely going to get some poor sucker in this town with their face arrested. She almost wants to see _that_ confrontation; what a way to figure out you’re a clone. Your Shakira look-alike barreling through town, fender crumpled, face ecstatic.

“I will get us to there!” Helena says. “Will be _fine_. We are _fine_. Turn up radio.”

“I swear to god, Helena, pull over and let me drive.”

Helena’s face scrunches up angrily and she fumbles over, cranks up the radio to truly horrifying levels. IT’S A PARTY IN THE USA, Miley Cyrus urgently informs them. The car is shaking with bass; Helena has an expression of mild delight, like she’s at a garden party. They go screaming through another red-light intersection.

I’VE GOT MY HANDS UP, Miley screams, THEY’RE PLAYING MY SONG, and Helena obediently lifts both of her goddamn hands into the air. Sarah makes a sound of pure horror that she didn’t know she was capable of making, and gets her hands back on the steering wheel again. They are still screaming at terrifying speeds down the road, but at least they are screaming at terrifying speeds down _the road_.

Helena yells something that is completely unintelligible under the sound of Miley singing about dreams, or airplanes, or their imminent demise (Sarah isn’t paying attention). _Get your hands back on the wheel_ , she tries to yell back, but although her throat hurts from the effort there is no audible sound.

She wrenches one hand off the wheel and fumbles for the dial, keeps twisting until all she can hear is the ringing in her ears. “Put – your hands – on – the _wheel_ ,” she manages to say.

“We could drive like this,” Helena says hopefully. “You are good with the steering, and I can make us go fast.”

“Helena,” Sarah says, voice a teary plea. “I don’t want to die in this bloody car.”

Helena lets out a sad, pointed sigh, and grudgingly puts her hands on ten and two. Sarah leans back in her seat, feels her heart pound merrily along at – well, at about the speed they’re going. She has just aged thirty years. She knows it.

The car is silent. Sarah turns her head to the side and watches wearily as Helena’s hand snakes back to the dial. She turns the radio back up.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please kudos + comment if you enjoyed! :)


End file.
